


Epithet

by sunlian



Category: Jade Empire
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, F/F, Gen, Mentions of Slavery, Mild descriptions of violence, They’ll be fluffy stuff later on bc im sappy and gay, its like a behind the name kinda thing, thats also prose-y bc i adore lian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-03-01 15:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13297770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlian/pseuds/sunlian
Summary: noun:an adjective or phrase expressing a quality or attribute regarded as characteristic of the person or thing mentioned.





	1. Silk Fox

**Author's Note:**

> this is hopefully going to be my first multi-chapter (published) fic! im aiming for 3 with maybe a little fluffy epilogue.
> 
> ANYWAYS big spoilers i love jade empire and i especially adore lian so it was only a matter of time before i wrote something like this. special shout out to that one anon i got who thanked me for putting stuff in her ao3 tag. this is for u, specifically ;)

It’s the sixth time this week that Princess Lian has slipped away from the palace tutors, and at this point, An thinks she’s making a game out of it.

Which is good, in her opinion. She’s nursed and cared for the young royal since her birth, and she can’t recall a time where she was simply allowed to be a child. Of course there are expectations for any child of Emperor, even more so for the heir apparent, but sometimes An wants to shout into the hallways of the palace; she’s a child, let her act like one!

But she’s just a servant, so it’s not her place to question the workings of nobility.

Still, there’s something infinitely amusing about seeing old men in fine silks frantically pacing around the expansive and maze-like halls of the Imperial Palace, in a blind panic, trying to find a little girl before word reaches the court or, even worse, Sun Hai himself. An usually steps in before they start pulling their beards off in distress.

It’s astounding how they haven’t learned that if Sun Lian doesn’t want to be found, then she won’t be. If she doesn’t like you, personally, then you won’t find her.

“Do find the lessons boring, Your Highness?” An had asked her once, after finding her in one of the smaller libraries, surrounded by a neat little pile of scrolls and books, taking notes into a small leather-bound book. It was almost comical, and completely adorable, watching the small girl in yellow quietly and quickly return each book and scroll to its correct place, before following the nursemaid out without a fuss.

“Yes, I do,” she had replied quite simply, looking rather regal for a seven year old who had skipped out on her classes again.

“May I ask why, Your Highness?”

Her face scrunches into an adorable little scowl, brow knitting together and bottom lip sticking out in a pout, a pout that An is almost certain she doesn’t know she’s doing.

“They don’t teach me anything useful! They’re scared of offending Father by upsetting me, so they don’t correct me or try to be strict with me, so the lessons are empty and I don’t learn anything!”

An hums in sympathy; Lian is a remarkably clever girl, it’s unsurprising that she would be become quickly by the simpering scholars assigned to teach her, more interested in appealing to her father than actually teaching their student.

A remarkably clever girl with a steadily developing rebellious streak, An notes to herself.

“So it’s purely because you find the lessons a waste of time, Your Highness?”

“Yes.”

“And not at all because you enjoy exploring the palace and sending your tutors into a frazzle, Your Highness?”

The girl giggles, quickly trying to hide it behind her hand, like a proper princess, but it gives An the only answer she needs, and she can’t help but smile.

“Such a sly mind you have, Your Highness,” she says, half to herself truthfully, but Lian hears her, looking up at her with open curiosity.

“‘Sly?’”

An looks back, the small smile still on her face.

“Clever and cunning, like a fox dressed in fine silk.”

Lian lights up, pure childlike joy shining through her light brown eyes.

“Like a forest spirit?”

“Exactly so, Princess. Exactly so.”

———

_“So um... what exactly do I call you?” Ling asks, rightfully wary of but oh-so-obviously curious about the masked woman in black._

_“You may call me Silk Fox.”_

 


	2. The Heavenly Lily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was nothing extraordinary or even interesting about the village of Yin Su.  
> Until it needed saving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOKS WHOS FUCKING BACK
> 
> this ended up being really long but I'm rather proud of it! it took a very different direction to how i imagined it but thats the way it works i guess  
> this chapter was the one giving me the most trouble, so 3 and 4 shouldnt take this long to get out

When the sun rose over his tiny little farming village this morning, Jianyu didn’t expect anything exciting. Nothing exciting happened in Yin Su, which is exactly why he decided to retire here. For nearly fifteen years, the sleepy little place remained unchanged.

However, one morning, when the fuzzy haze of dawn was still lingering over the village, that changed.

Lotus Assassins. He knew immediately, when a woman from the outlying fields came running from her farm, shouting about a group of bandits with blackened hands and dead eyes. Nothing else in the Empire could fit that description. But this far from the major cities, and in decent numbers? Something terrible was about to befall his simple little home, and everyone else who lived there.  

Maybe he wasn’t the soldier he was in his youth. Maybe his bones creaked too loudly and too often for him to seriously consider taking up a spear again. And the chances of him actually reaching the outlying farms quick enough to make a difference was next to nothing.

But how could he live with himself if he did nothing? The boy, his family, the farms, the village- nothing ever survived the march of the Lotus Assassins.

And so Jianyu ran.

He ran faster he had in decades. His knees jolted, his legs burned, his lungs forced themselves into overdrive. Dread twisted in his stomach and the smallest part of his brain whispered; this is where you die.

 _So be it,_ he thought. He was an old man anyways.

The farms on the edge of the forest drew closer, closer with each pounding stride. Shapes began appearing, a collection of black, red and a bright sickly yellow. Closer again. 6 Assassins, and an Inquisitor. The knotted dread in his gut twists again, but Jianyu was moving too fast to take heed, mind working in tandem with instinct to figure out his first attack.

Closer. A boy, the farmer’s son, shouted, then screamed in agony, as he was forced to the ground. An Assassin steps up and a spear thrusts forward. The Assassin brought the spear back to finish him, but spotted the charging veteran out of the corner of their eyes. The rest of them turn to him.

Closer. Closer again. He could make them out now; moly eyes, sickly grey skin, cracked and flaky in some area. And the blackened hands, gripping weapons, dripping with the natural venom of the Viper Style.

He stopped, spear held forward, slipping into the stance drilled into him by the Imperial Army. Wordlessly, the Inquisitor stepped forward, the other Assassins falling in rank at her side; three on the left, three on the right. Their faces were twisted with hate in a way that seemed permanent, even though their grey lips were pulled into smirks and cruel little smiles. Only the Inquisitor seemed neutral, almost bored.

The boy whimpered, slowly pulling himself off the road and towards the farm.

“Don’t bother, worm,” the Inquisitor snapped, “you’ll be dealt with once this old fool has learned his lesson for interfering with things that don’t concern him.”

Frost began to coat the claws of the woman, rapidly reaching up her arms, and the ground below her.

 _I’ll have to deal with the sorcerer first,_ Jianyu thought. _I can probably deal with her. I’ll hold the rest of them off as long as I can, and the kid can get to the village, warn them to start running-_

A shadow drops from the trees, unnoticed by all.

Jianyu remembers the next handful of seconds in perfect clarity.

The Inquisitor, face twisting into a hideous snarl, her hands moving back, forming a ball of ice. Feeling himself bracing to dive to the side. The simpering noises of the boy suddenly stopping, cut off by a gasp.

A sword burst through the neck of the sorcerer.

In an instant, her snarl was replaced with shock. Her eyes glanced down at the blade protruding from her neck, trying for form words, dark blood dribbling from her opened mouth instead. The sword ripped itself back out, the dying Assassin fell forward with a sickening gurgle, and standing in her place, was a woman in black.

What happened next was a little more indistinct; the Assassins turned on the masked assailant, seemingly forgetting about Jianyu and the farm boy, instead focused on the newcomer who had killed their commander in a single blow. He saw the woman deftly dodge the first attack, then follow it up with a downward cut that sent the Assassin staggering. Using that momentum, she then brought the blade into an uppercut, slicing into the man from collarbone to the underside of his jaw. Another Assassin, armed with a bo staff, charged from the side, only to barely miss her target as she leaped over her head, landed behind her and thrust forward into her back. Without missing a beat, the masked woman pulled the sword out and spun, slashing through the Assassins’ armour and into her back.

The bo staff wielder falls with a shout, and her body hadn’t even hit the ground before before her fellows engaged; two with swords began to charge while the others, their hands coated in venom, moving to circle their attacker.

“Get out of here, go!” she barked, bringing herself and her blade up into a defensive stance, just in time for the first swordsmans’ weapon to come down hard against her block, the sound of steel hitting steel ringing out through the forest, barely able to push off the attack.

Her voice was commanding in a way that almost forced Jianyu back his senses. Even as she pushed back by another powerful blow, he found his feet, scrambling over to the boy, who was weakly clutching at the wound in his leg, face paled and eyes glued to the skirmish before him.

His aching body, exhausted from his mad sprint, screams protests as he crouched, looped his arm under the boys’ own and hauled him up onto his feet. He made a shout of sudden pain, jerked back into reality by the bloody wound in his thigh.

“Put weight on your good leg, we gotta get movin’.”

“Wh-what about-”

He was cut off by scream of pain and the thud of a heavy body.

“She doesn’t need our help, boy, move!” Jianyu grunted, tugging the boy towards the nearest farm, the sounds of clashing swords and battle echoing in his ears.

———

That was three days ago. No more Assassins have turned up since, though that might be because their superiors haven’t noticed yet. Jianyu pushes the thought from his mind. They’re safe.

Jianyu all but dragged the boy- Bao, he called himself after getting sick of being called ‘boy’ - into the closest farmhouse, which happened to be the one the child lived in, and made quick work of cleaning and dressing the wound. The lad still looked a little pale, but he’d live.

They waiting for what felt like hours, Jianyu trying to keep his hands from shaking as they worked on the spear wound, from exhaustion and just plain old age. It seemed that, as soon as he’d tied off the bandage and stepped back, complete silence fell upon them.

They waited, silent, shaking and fearful, to discover whoever won that fierce skirmish. Jianyu had prayed in haste to every god and spirit he could think of that the shadowy figure won, but the rational part of him knew that one person could not stand up to a squad of Lotus Assassins, not even one that managed to kill at least three.

Then the door swung open, revealing a bloodied, bruised woman in black, sword sheathed, a scroll clenched in her hand.

Well, old men being wrong isn’t anything new.

Now able to get a closer look at their mysterious stranger, Jianyu noticed a few things.

One, she might have been able to kill 7 Lotus Assassins, but not without immense effort. Dark, wet patches stood out from the black of her odd armour, and her mask seemed almost soaked in blood. Her shoulders seem to shake ever so slightly whenever she breathed in. She was in a bad way, and trying her best to pretend otherwise.

Two, she was _very_ good at pretending otherwise. She stood as tall as she could, her voice imperious and commanding even as she was checking to see they were okay, and assuring them that all of the Assassins were dead. It was the voice of someone who knew what they were doing, and didn’t broker objections. It sounded so natural that it only raised more questions about who this woman is.

Third, and maybe the most confusing, is that she’s not a woman. She’s just a girl. She can’t be any older than fifteen, maybe sixteen years old. During her entrance and the chaos had followed, she had moved too quickly for Jianyu to really see just how small she is. Shorter than average by a hell of lot, too.

And yet, even the Inquisitor failed to sense her hiding in the trees, sneaking up on her with a sword drawn.

The woman- girl- suggested that they take the bodies further into the woods, though it sounded more like an order, before she turned and left the pair of them. When Bao tried to follow her out, she had simply disappeared.

Following the suggesting of the girl in black, he rounded up a couple of the stronger-stomached villagers to help him haul the bodies out into the forest. Making it seem like a bandit attack is a solid plan, he has to admit; it’s no secret the place is plagued by them, and the wounds on the bodies were obviously caused by a sword, not a pike or pitchfork or any other improvised weapon a peasant would be able to grab.

 _Or use as effectively_ , Jianyu noted grimly, the heavy corpse on his shoulder leaking congealing blood onto his tunic.

Once the grim work was done, and Bao was reunited with his frazzled mother, Jianyu set about both calming the village down, and trying to find out if the girl in black had headed into or through the village. He kind of expected the answers he got; no one in the village had seen anything, heard anything, of the black-suited stranger.

That is, until she turned up again.

Near Yin Su, there’s a little old temple. Long since abandoned by whoever worshipped at it, the place is nonetheless very peaceful and beautiful. A small spring-fed pool sits just in front of it, bubbling happily all year round, its’ banks surrounded by all kinds of flowering plants, and the trees above are parted just enough to let sunlight through the canopy. The temple itself still contains intact shrines for those trained in their purpose and use to recover their chi and inner focus through meditation.

On reflection, this probably should’ve been the first place he looked.

She’s not startled or surprised by his approach, sitting as she is by the edge of the pool. Her mask is on, though it looks markedly less… bloody now. In fact, there’s hardly any trace of the injuries she must’ve sustained during her fight. The amount of healing that must’ve taken… it’s a good thing she found the shrines.

He eases his way down to the edge of the pool, stopping a amicable distance from the masked girl. She doesn’t give any indication or acknowledgement of his presence, but Jianyu can feel it in his bones; she knows where’s been the moment he stepped into the clearing.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Why would I mind? This clearing belongs to your village, does it not?”

He chuckles, easing down onto the back, sitting back comfortably with a sigh.

“Fair point, fair point,” he says, taking in the views around him. The girl beside him is quiet, but her eyes are oddly focused, on something far beyond this little clearing.

“Gotta name I can call you?”

“You may call me Silk Fox,” comes the curt reply. Obviously not her real name, but it’s not his place to pry in the affairs of the person who saved his village, and himself.

“You do this kinda thing often, Silk Fox?” He says, gesturing the sword strapped to her back, and then the black armour on her arms, “save helpless villagers from secret paramilitary forces? Thank you for that, by the way,” he adds, watching her brow knit and furrow in frustration.

“The Lotus Assassins are leading our Empire down a path of their own wicked design, lead by Death’s Hand himself. I have no doubt he seeks nothing less than total control of the throne.”

“‘Our Empire?’”

Silk Fox turns to him, cocking a confused eyebrow.

“You’re a citizen of the Empire, aren’t you?”

“Yeah but- I’ve never heard it phrased it that way,” he says, equally as confused.

“Then it belongs just as much to you as it does to anyone else, from the master of a school, to the farmer tending to his oxen, and the royal family themselves. Some have forgotten this, or wish to change this, Death’s Hand chief among them” she says, her voice turning harsh briefly, “so any action against him and his minions is action worthy of taking.

“So, to answer your original question, I suppose I do do this kind of thing often.”

Jianyu goes quiet, contemplating what the young woman said, and the magnitude of what she wants to do. But there’s one thing he still needs to know.

“What did they- the Lotus Assassins… what did they even want with this place?”

“Slaves,” she replies, cold anger on the edge of her voice, “they were to round up the villagers, kill anyone that gave them trouble, and then burn the village to the ground. For what, I don’t know. Not yet. What I do know is that Death’s Hand is getting bold; claiming to be the will of the Emperor while enslaving the very citizens under his care.”

Jianyu feels his blood turn sluggish and cold. Slavery is a blight on the face of the Empire. It was something practiced by pirates and bandits, and nothing else. He’s known, for several years now, that the Lotus Assassins were something else, something awful but this…

“The Emperor will stop them. He has to, right?”

“He will. Soon, Death’s Hand’s actions will exposed before the entirety of the Imperial Court, and most importantly, the Emperor. Once that happens, I have no doubt that conniving, black-hearted fiend will quartered for his crimes.”

Her conviction, her passionate anger, the knowledge that at least one person out there is capable of fighting the Lotus Assassins takes the ice from his veins, if only for now.

Her eyes slide away from him, coming to rest on something on the opposite side of the pool.

He follows her gaze, where it rests on the large patch of lilies, growing on the edge of the pool. They bloomed brilliantly this year; bright and vibrant. 

“Admirin’ the lilies?”

Silk Fox regards the white-and-red flowers with… Jianyu can’t tell. Beyond the black mask, the look in her eyes is unreadable. A complete shift from the defiant fighter he saw a few seconds ago. There’s no anger, no steely determination. Whatever she sees in the delicate lilies has shifted her entire mood, leaving her impossibly distant and frigid. 

Who _is_ she?

He clears his throat, turning away from her to admire the fragile flowers himself, hoping to break the sudden tension in the air.  

“Y’know, I hear in the palace, the lilies are enchanted to never wilt or die. A gift from some sorcerer for the princess’s fourteenth birthday or somethin’,” He says, something almost wistful creeping into his voice, “Must be a sight to see.”

She doesn’t reply for while, but her gaze warms somewhat, and the indifference shifts slightly, into something else that Jianyu can’t place.

“I think that’s pretty extravagant for a fourteen year old, but hey, she’s royalty, I’m not,” Jianyu continues, as jovially as he can, “Makes sense for someone called ‘the Heavenly Lily’ I guess.”

“Only in one garden are they enchanted, but yes. They never wilt, and will never die.”

Jianyu blinks at her, at her sudden reply. The tone of her voice matches the looks in her eyes, and again, he can’t place it. Yearning? Longing? Homesickness?

“How’d’ya know that?”

There’s another silence, far less awkward, as Silk Fox stares at the flowers for little longer, before her eyes flick to the side to look at him.

“I find myself at the palace often.”

Jianyu’s eyebrows shoot up in disbelief.

“You? How?”

Something equal parts amused and mischievous glitters behind her mask, and Jianyu would swear every last silver he owned that she’s smiling behind the black silk.

“I am very talented a blending into any kind of crowd.”

———

_“Hey, can I ask you something?”_

_“I don’t see why not.”_

_Ling’s mouth curls into the lopsided grin that Lian is quickly becoming far too fond of._

_“So, the Heavenly Lily thing; do you actually like being called that?”_

_“What a odd question… I suppose while I might get tired of hearing from simpering nobles and ministers, I certainly don’t oppose the title.”_

_“Oh, that’s good. I just wanted to say that I think it suits you.”_

_“Really? I don’t think I’d mind hearing it from you, truthfully.”_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: jianyu was rather high-ranking in the imperial army when he retired, which is why hes rather old during this. his last major military campaign was the Siege of Dirge.


	3. Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Imperial City never sleeps. Neither does her princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bleh... dont want to talk about how long this took.... but i like it, and the last chapter should hopefully be out soon.

The Imperial City is loud.

Not that Ling really expected it to be anything else, but it still takes her off guard often enough for her to make note of it. 

The noise never stops, not even in the dead of night. There’s always something going on, always people moving about, and the lights- the lights never dull or disappear. It reminds her of something Smiling Mountain once told her; cities are living things, their citizens their lifeblood, the lights their spirit, and the buildings their bones. He called them beasts that never rest nor sleep.

She really, really regrets saying that that was a stupid thing to think. To his face. In front of at least 6 other students. Things are always so much clearer in hindsight, and the path ahead is never truly clear. He said that too.

She swallows the clump forming in her throat down with no small amount of effort, blinking away the wetness gathering in her eyes. Thinking about Two Rivers isn’t easy at the best of times, but doubly so when she’s trying to sleep.

With a heavy sigh, she rolls onto her back, peering up into the too-bright sky. She hasn’t seen a single star since they arrived here, but it doesn’t stop her from looking near every night. She’s not exactly sure what she’s even looking for; comfort maybe? Something familiar to cling to in a place as far removed from home as it’s possible to be? The idea that the constellations Master Li used to point out to her and Dawn Star on quiet evenings, the stars that watched nighttime training and, more often, foolery, are the same here in the beating heart of the Empire could be soothing, if she let it. 

But looking up, in the dead of night, it’s almost like they don’t exist anymore. So, definitely like home then. 

Ling bites back a groan, not wanting to wake the others, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, and bringing her hands up to rake through her hair. Wasn’t she supposed to be trying to sleep? Absolutely stunning display of self-sabotage there, she thinks. She brings her knees up, tapping her foot against her bedroll, before turning onto her other side and-

And meeting a pair of very open, very awake eyes, brown and flecked with silver, about half a meter from her own.

“Oh, spirits-!” She exclaims, managing to barely keep it to more of a surprised whisper, scrambling slightly into a half sitting up position. She even gulps nervously, as a final brick in the “embarrassing yourself in the literal middle of the night” tomb, “I didn’t… uh… I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

Sun Lian merely raises one eyebrow at her, and can Ling can feel her stomach drop and her fav twisting into an embarrassed grimace. 

Because of an eyebrow quirk. Nobody in the history of the Jade Empire has ever been in this deep with someone so entirely out of their league.

“You didn’t,” she says, completely casually, moving to sit up as well, breaking Ling out of whatever spiral she was about to fall into.

“I did- oh. Okay…? That’s… good,” she replies,nodding to herself, “Yes, I’m glad I didn’t wake you up. Great. Excellent.”

She starts to relax when Lian smiles at her fumbling; the crinkling corners of her eyes giving away what the mask hides, smiling back almost unthinkingly.

“Were you already up then?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t sleep much, and when I do, I sleep lightly,” Lian says with a small shrug, “even if you had woken me up, I wouldn’t feel too bad about it. It takes very little after all.”

Ling blinks.

“You never told me this before.”

Lian nearly rolls her eyes in response, but she merely tilts her head to side slightly.

“And how exactly are my sleeping habits relative to our mission? The mission, I mean.”

The slip isn’t lost on her, nor is the colour that she can see dusting the tips of Lian’s ears, but she presses with her current question.

“But that’s not… how do you get any sleep? At all?”

Lian doesn’t answer. The silver in her eyes glints in the low light, like shards of cold steel. Her features hard and unflinchingly unimpressed. Ling has definitely seen that look before, but never at her. That icy, imperious gaze that makes soldiers drop to their knees and parts entire seas of people, common and noble alike. 

Oddly enough, it just makes her sad. 

She forgets, sometimes, the amount of difference between the two of them, still. That this is… normal, maybe even expected, for her. 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Lian says, quietly, her expression softening quickly before turning back into the more familiar look of a quirked brow and wry amusement, “I’m not the one with the Guild _and_ the Lotus Assassins after me.”

“Just the Lotus Assassins,” Ling replies, almost managing a smile when she chuckles in response. When it tapers out, Lian focuses on her again, the softness coming back. She looks almost confused, and that’s not unfamiliar, at least not to Ling. 

“Is it… truly concerning to you that I sleep lightly?”

_ Why is the idea of people being genuinely, truly concerned for you so alien? _

“I mean, I know it’s difficult, trying to run off of a small amount of sleep,” Ling says as neutrally as she can manage, but she can hear concern creeping onto her voice, “especially when you’re… well… running around beating up ghosts and Assassins.”

“I suppose you would,” she says with a snicker, which Ling is grateful for, rather than bringing up her near-constant nightmares, “alright, what you suggest I do?”

“Well, lie down, for one,” she motions, lying down herself, “and I’ll stay awake until you’re asleep.”

Lian scoffs, but she does lie down next to her.

“And you think that will work?”

“I hope it will.”

There’s a deep exhale from next to her. Ling makes the conscious decision to not read too much into it.

Lian’s breathing is steady, deep. It slows, growing deeper as the minutes tick by.    
When it tapers into the steady, shallow and slow breathing of someone who is very deeply asleep, only then does Ling let herself drift off. 

\------

_ When the day grows silent, she can hear the cracking, snapping of bone, the gurgling of blood, and the thud of a body against the throne room that was supposed to be hers.  _ _  
_ _ When she closes her eyes, she sees it. The moment that the life flee her, how her knees give out entirely.   _

_ When she wakes, there is no one beside her.  _ _  
_ _ She has not slept in a week. She does not know if she’ll ever sleep again. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would any of you like a kind of sequel to this?


	4. Lian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Behind every mask, there is a person. And sometimes, that person bleeds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE CONCLUSION OF THE EPIC! I CANT BELIEVE IM HERE!  
> god special thanks to everyone who read and comment, especially cellorocket (bossard on tumblr), rszealot and walrusgrendel (direct-from-orzammar on tumblr, without their lovely comments i never mightve finished. special thanks always to gothic-princess-witch and jazzforshire, for encouraging me and never letting me get dishearted.  
> thank you all for reading my esoteric bullshit, and i hope to continue to write.

After four days of being awake, her body finally gave out. Her final hours of consciousness she could recall only in blurry detail. Landing, hiding the Dragonfly, finding the cave, clearing out the cave, setting camp. Muted words and a hand on her shoulder, one she was too tired to shrug off. Someone- Sky? It had to be him- suggesting that she get some sleep, that they’d wake her for dinner. Feeling her gut lurch at the idea of eating, her chest twist at his tone; soft in a pitying way, like she’s fragile thing that needs to be handled delicately, in fear of shattering it completely.

(If she was being fair, he spoke the same way to Dawn Star, but she was too exhausted, and in too much pain to be fair)

She was too tired to protest him, and- truthfully- the hand on her shoulder leading her to her tent was… nice. The exhaustion finally settling deep in her bones, sending the world into a soft, hazy focus, the comforting blackness of unconsciousness settling over her like a heavy blanket.

The second she closes her eyes, it happens again.

———

The Hall of the Seat of Heaven of was bright, brighter than she could ever recall seeing it in a lifetime of calling the palace home. Coming to her senses, it was almost like she could count the threads that made up the great silk rug that ran the length of the mighty hall. Greens, yellows and reds, blinding in their clarity. Standing again takes effort, whatever spell that Hai used to render them all unconscious fading with- what Lian has to assume is- Sun Hai’s death. A dull pain tugged at her at the thought, but it was just that; dull, a lesser concern, something that she could deal with later. At the time, she was more focused on simpler things. Standing on her two feet, for instance. The spell was fading with every passing second, like the fog of a deep sleep retreating before the morning light. She gets onto her hands and knees, and then pushes back, staggering up onto two feet. She can see the others pulling themselves up as well, and Ling’s Master Li- Sun Li, her uncle? Very little made sense the way it was supposed to now- was already walking ahead. She can’t truly see where he’s going, but she knows that the foot of the throne is the only place that makes sense.

A dark blue blur stands alone before the throne. The shape is undefined but comforting.

Out of the corner of her eye, the Black Whirlwind takes a single, shaky step, and Sky helps Hou to his feet. Dawn Star follows behind the gigantic mercenary, Wild Flower’s small hand held firmly in her own, moving forward with staggering step after staggering step. With each uncertain step, the world became clearer.

Their ragged little party is three-quarters of the way to the throne when Li’s first strike connects. The second, third and fourth follow in rapid, split-second succession. The loud crack-crack-crack of various bones breaking under precise fists, shattering from sheer force, splits the air.

And then time slows.

In too-perfect detail, Lian sees the shudder that starts first in Ling’s chest, quickly spreading to her legs and knees, causing them to shake. A gurgle escapes her mouth, thick with blood, and she lurches forward, ever so slightly, before her legs give out and she- her body hits the ground with a dull thud.

Lian’s eyes snap open the instant she hits the ground, surrounded by darkness, and completely alone.

———

Lian never used to wake up from her nightmares.

She didn’t even remember them most of the time; she was only struck with the feeling of being unable to wake up, and whatever lingering fears from the dream.

This nightmare wakes her up, again. She remembers it clearly, again. She can feel something wet on her face; she’s crying, again.

She’s cried more over the past week then she has in her entire life. Not that anyone’s seen. She can keep that at least. She can keep that mask, that one last line of defense from her and everyone, everything else.  
(Was it a week? Has it been more? She can’t sleep anymore, and time means very little.)  
She could join the others, but they expect her to be asleep, and she knows that her eyes are likely red from tears, and her mask-

_“Aren’t you going to wear that?”_

_“If we’re confronting my father, then it won’t do much at all. Besides, I will not be treated as a stranger in my own home. Now, come here.”_

_Ling complies with a small, albeit curious, smile, stepping closer. Taking her wrist in her hand, Lian quickly wraps and then ties her silk mask around it, tying it securely but not too tightly around it._

_“It’s a favour,” Lian explains, meeting Ling’s ecstatic eyes, “it’s… I’ve read about the nobility doing it before.”_

_“There is no way under Heaven I can fail now,” Ling replies, grin wide but words serious, and in that moment, Lian totally believes her. She believes that nothing will go wrong, that everything will be cleared up, and that Jia was wrong. Her father will fix this, fix the wrongs in the Empire, and she and Ling will… they’ll figure out whatever it is between them, and they’ll do it together-_

She doesn’t have it anymore. She doesn’t have anything anymore.

Thinking about it- thinking about Ling- hurts more than anything she can remember, more than any wound, any injury she’s every sustained. It feels like-

It feels like every single time she was forced to retreat against the Lotus Assassins, knowing they’d go on to wreak unspeakable destruction.

It feels like meeting the eyes of the terrified peasants in cages and chains and knowing that this time, she can’t save them, can’t save anyone.

It’s the blood she tastes in her mouth the day after, the screaming pain that follows her into the court.

It is an all consuming feeling of total, unwavering defeat and despair. And it is the only thing that she- Lian, not Silk Fox, not the Heavenly Lily- has left.

Not that she can acknowledge that, because it means acknowledging that behind every single mask, every name, every different epithet and title, the woman behind it all-

Lian pauses, rubbing at her eyes, trying in vain to blink away the redness, if not the memories that caused it. She braces herself, gathers every single broken little pieces of herself, as best she can, even as her spirit cuts itself open on the most jagged edges, and fights against the exhaustion that flickers and settles on the edges of her vision.

She steps out of the tent and joins the others, and the last mask settles over her face, cracked but still solid.

Because just being Lian is maybe the hardest thing she’s ever done, and there’s no way she can do it in front of these people.

Not alone.

———

She’s snapped.

She’s finally, finally snapped.

It’s the exhaustion, or the grief, or maybe it’s a bit of everything. For the first time in her life, Lian welcomes such weakness, if only because she cannot believe what her eyes are telling her.

Ling is alive.

Not some lost spirit, or walking corpse, but alive. Alive in the truest sense of the word, eyes bright like they always are, shoulders and chest rising in breath, and a band of black silk around her wrist.

_She’s alive._

And suddenly, like the miracle it truly, truly is, it does not hurt to be just Lian anymore.

Her final mask crumbles at her feet, and Lian doesn’t care.

She never wants to wear a mask around her again.

  


**END.**


End file.
